


A Wolf Among Saviors

by crimsoncomradeposts



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsoncomradeposts/pseuds/crimsoncomradeposts
Summary: Sanctuary living was never meant to be easy. But being thrust into the spotlight as Negan's right hand woman may make things all the more worth it.





	1. Own That Shit

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can also be found on my fanfiction page: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12234164/1/A-Wolf-Among-Saviors

Right hand to the most dangerous, and dare you say cunning, man on the planet. It's a title you never expected to wind up with in a million lifetimes. Then again, who ever dreams they'll be in the midst of a zombie apocalypse? Simon used to hold the title that you now carry, that was, until he managed to go and get himself bitten by a walker after so carelessly traipsing through an abandoned building in search of supplies. And thus, you find yourself thrust into Negan's spotlight, all eyes gazing upon you for leadership when the big, bad wolf isn't around. This gig isn't so bad, you tell yourself. Being Negan's right hand comes with a very big perk. Like his wives, even though you most certainly are not, you don't have to work for points. Should you get sick, or even injured, you no longer have to worry about whether or not you've saved up enough points for medication. Food, luckily for the encampment, doesn't come with a points system, but luxury items are now "free fucking game" as Negan so eloquently put it.

As the RV rolls to a stop, your mind shifts from thoughts of the past to the here and now just as Negan peers at you via the rear view mirror. "Oh, honey, we're home." You watch silently as the corners of his eyes crinkle in the reflection with the grin that's now spread across his features. "Time to go get us some mother fucking pork!"

Of all of the missions you'd run together, this was your least favorite. After all, chasing hogs wasn't exactly an ideal way to spend your time. A swing of the RV's door reveals the self-proclaimed King Ezekiel and his no good do-gooders, and stepping out onto the pavement, you're greeted with a sickeningly sweet smile that even Ezekiel himself had to know was far from convincing.

"As requested," he begins, waving a hand toward the squealing hogs that have been tied up to the beds of their pickup trucks prevent their escape. "You'll find we've even thrown in two extra."

"Jesus Christ!" Negan exclaims, twirling the bat on his shoulder whilst he steps up beside you, the pair of you now standing at the forefront of your little group. "Two extra. Well goddamn if you ain't fuckin' steppin' up. Well done. Well fuckin' done." With a simple nod of his head, Negan orders his rag-tag group to gather up the hogs so they can be relocated back to the Sanctuary.

Holstering your gun, you begin to take a step forward in order to assist with the transportation of the pigs. The sole of your left boot barely makes contact with the asphalt before the sharp sting of barbed wire pushes past your clothes to bite at the skin of your stomach. "And just where the fuck do you think you're going?" The question is laced with both genuine curiosity and a warning: you're not to move from your position beside Negan, and as ordered (without actually having been ordered), you comply.

"Was just going to help them round up the pigs," you reply as your head turns to look up at Negan, Lucille still pressed up against your abdomen. His gaze holds yours in an intense standoff, and soon, he's pulling Lucille away from you, the barbed wire tearing small holes in the fabric of your sweater.

"Might I remind you that you're no longer the help. You're my right hand man!" Negan pauses in a fleeting moment of thought. "Let me fuckin' retract that statement. You're my right hand woman." A grin, the same shit-eating one from the RV slowly spreads practically from ear to ear until both rows of teeth gleam in the morning sunlight. "Fuckin' own that shit now."

You may not know it now; hell, none of you would, but you'll own your status in more ways than one in the coming days.


	2. The Calm Before The Storm

The thud of dead weight hits the ground, the sight of a freshly slaughtered pig following the sound as still warm blood begins to pool beneath the body. "Get it strung up." Should have fucking done that in the first place, you think to yourself. "Get it skinned and gutted before shipping it off to the kitchen for dinner. You know the drill!" Your voice booms throughout the small courtyard designated for events such as this. You may all be stuck together in a compound, but that doesn't mean that the slaughter had to be done out in the view of the others. Thankfully, you were no longer tasked with such menial work. Turning to allow the others to do as they've been told, you find yourself whistling a tune as you begin to stroll away from the scene.

"Goddamn bitch sounds just like him," someone mutters from within the small group of men.

"You would too if you spent your time with him," says another.

They're hushed whispers, but they're still loud enough for you to hear. Whether it's on purpose or not remains to be seen. But these aren't the whispers that bother you. No. It's the rumors and theories that float throughout the compound that truly dig deep beneath your skin and settle uneasily within your mind. Why her? Of all of his followers, what makes her so special? Do you think he's fucking her? Maybe she didn't want to be his wife so this was the next best option. Maybe she is a wife, but she's the only one willing to get dirty. So many questions, so many rumors, and yet not one of them have been shut down, try as you might. Negan's well aware of the gossip going around, but he couldn't be bothered to give a damn. He has more important things to worry about, of course. As should you. As should everyone. But it appears that not even the end of times can kill the rumor mill.

"You have one hour," you call out from over your shoulder, quick to remind the men who's in charge while Negan's elsewhere within the Sanctuary. An hour is being generous, and as much as these men utterly irritate you, you're much more lenient than your counterpart. "If it's not signed, sealed, and delivered by then…" Trailing off, you turn briefly to look at the men with a single brow perked and a lopsided smirk pulling at the left corner of your mouth. "…you know what'll happen." No response is given by the group, and none is necessary. They have their warning, and you've regained control of the problem…for now. Returning to the task at hand, which is gather the inventory list from both the kitchen and makeshift general store, you leave the group behind to conduct their duties.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Plastic scrapes against wood just as you set the small sewing kit down onto the counter within the general store. The kit holds thin strands of string, none of which match the maroon shade of your t-shirt, but you're well aware that beggars can't be choosers in times such as these.

"That all for you today?" Your gaze lifts to meet that of this week's shop attendant (you've come to find that Negan likes to rotate people's positions) and you offer him a polite smile with a quick nod of your head in response.

"That'll be all. That and," you follow up your initial statement by extending your hand outward toward the man, palm facing upward, "I need your inventory list."

It's plain to see the excitement in the man's face, and having in this store for all of five minutes, you can understand why. Given the fact that the last supply run we've had was two weeks ago, the store's shelves have grown sparse. It was time for a much needed refilling. "O-of course." He's quick to comply. Smart. With one hand, you slip the sewing kit into the back pocket of your jeans whilst he places a folded piece of yellow lined paper into your other hand. "We need plenty. If you can't find everything, that's fine, I suppose. I, I just tried to think of the usual." You watch as he begins to wring his hands together in a nervous gesture. You hated when people did that, but you understood. Talking to you was like having an indirect line to Negan himself. Since your sudden rise to power as Negan's right hand, you'd found that you'd become an extension of the legend himself. Giving another nod, this one acknowledging his statement, you pocket the paper before giving him a quick salute in thanks for his cooperation.

"I'll see what we can do."

"Goddammit, woman, you in there?" The familiar boom of Negan's voice fills the tiny interior of the building and strikes fear in the very heart of the man before you. The emotion is written all over his sorry face. Negan is notorious for punishing those who so much as look at him wrong, let alone keep him waiting. He'd already called for you once, you weren't about to test him a second time. Upon vacating the building, you're greeted by a familiar, and still unsettling, appearance. Negan stands in all of his glory, Lucille slung carelessly over his shoulder as she so often is, but it's what's happening around him that continues to give you an uneasy feeling each and every time you witness the act. Those who were outside prior to his arrival now kneel on the ground, whether it be grass, dirt, or concrete, and lower their eyes to the Earth below them, never daring to look at Negan. "Well fuck," he exclaims, the familiar smile making yet another appearance as he speaks. "I thought you were going to stay in there all goddamn day. Get the fuck moving, we've got work to do."

Off in the distance, a tiny bell rings; a call to alert those outdoors that dinner is set to begin. Your stomach rumbles at the thought of missing a meal, but as quickly as the thought forms, the memory of the pigs' slaughter is enough to put you off wanting to grab a quick meal before leaving with Negan. He turns to head to the RV, and taking long strides, you find yourself able to catch up to him in no time at all.

"You got those lists," he asks, only looking over to you once the realization sets in that you haven't answered him immediately. You nod, and satisfied with your answer, he looks back out ahead at the dusty camper. "Good girl," he croons. "Time to go get us these damn supplies."


End file.
